


nevermore

by skochius



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Ravens, Short One Shot, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 19:48:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10646823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skochius/pseuds/skochius
Summary: It starts with a raven getting stuck in Tony's fence and ends with a stranger saving his life. Funny how these things work out.





	nevermore

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on my tumblr and uploaded because why not :)

* * *

 

Tony doesn’t like wildlife.

Well, that’s not entirely truthful—he doesn’t mind wildlife on his TV screen, for example, or safely contained in cages at the zoo. That’s perfectly fine. Nice and sterile.

But now wildlife is staring him in the face and screaming and Tony, frankly, isn’t sure what to do for the first time in his life.

He gapes at the raven.

The raven caws in return.

The bird somehow managed to wedge it’s head into the bare inch or two of space between the metal railposts of his patio and the glass that made up the fence. It’s furious—scratching at the glass with sharp looking talons and screeching like a banshee every time Tony so much as fidgets.

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do?” Tony asks, throwing out his hands. “This is _Malibu_ , why are you even _here_?”

The raven stops moving, as though Tony just said something so profoundly stupid he stunned it into silence.

“It’s not like I know where ravens live, Nevermore.” Why is he arguing with a bird again? Jesus. “Okay. Let’s just… get you out of there.”

There was, however, the slightiest, tiniest, bitiest problem—

The bird is facing him, around groin height. Which means its ass is hanging over a good two story drop over a jagged cliffside into the ocean. Which also means, for the kids at home not paying attention, that Tony would have to _bend over the railing to reach the bird._

Or he could get a pair of his suit boots out and hover behind the railing, then lift Nevermore out. But that could frighten it even more, and the steering is shit without a pair of replusor gloves—not to mention, the thought of handling Nevermore’s small body with gauntlets that could crush steel isn’t appealing.

Bending it is.

Tony licks his lips. “I’m just going to come closer to the rail—fuck!”

Nevermore caws again, loud, and clearly protesting the idea of having Tony anywhere near it.

“Will you just shut up, I’m trying to help!”

The ungodly wailing stops, but Nevermore gives Tony a distinct look of disapproval. It ruffles the feathers of its wings, tucking them tightly against its sleek body.

“I can’t believe I’m going to do this, I can’t believe I’m going to do this,” Tony chants as he inches closer towards the bird. “Please don’t peck my dick, please please please I need it.”

Slowly, and with the kind of care he usually employs solely for his ‘bot babies, Tony leans over the rail. Nevermore gives a disgruntled squawk, but otherwise stays completely still as Tony wraps one hand over the upper part of its body, pinning the wings down, and the other around its lower half, cupping those nightmare talons.

“Okay, okay, okay…”

Holding his breath, Tony gently lifts the bird up, sliding it vertically along the gap and, praise to whatever cosmic forces are listening, the bird’s neck does not catch. It’s just a matter of raising it until Nevermore’s head is free, and Tony’s left with wildlife once more staring at him.

Very irate wildlife.

It’s strange, though, because this close, it almost looks like the raven’s eyes are green. Then Nevermore shrieks and Tony, startled so badly he nearly shits his pants, drops the raven. It freefalls for a few feet before opening its wings and cutting a sharp path along the face of the cliff and back up into the sky.

“You’re welcome, you bastard!” Tony yells, the goes inside to wash his hands, because who knows what diseases birds carry. Is the avian flu still a thing? Better to not find out.

 

– – –

 

It is a sad, unfortunate fact of life that vacations, much like a good nap, must eventually come to an end.

 

– – –

 

Of course, there’s another known fact of life—when you return to work from a well-earned break, pretty much everything will be on fire.

 

– – –

 

“Iron Man, come in! Can you hear me?”

To Tony’s immense despair, yes, he _can_  hear Steve shouting in his ear and causing his head to split open like a ripe melon, spilling his brains all over the floor—

Well, no. But it sure as shit feels like it.

 _That’s a concussion_ , Tony thinks faintly. For a stomach churning moment, his vision goes double and Tony disengages the helmet faster than that one time a spider crawled in it. He tries to get up from the crater his impact left in the wall, but his whole body rebels by being one giant point of pain.

“Tony, status,” comes Natasha’s voice from the helmet in his hands.

Laying in what looks like the living room of an abandoned apartment after being swatted out of the sky by a tentacle monster that had risen up from the depths of the nasty New York sewer. Because that’s apparently his life now.

“Alive,” Tony gasps. “But not kicking. I got knocked by that thing into an old apartment building. I think I’ll be fine though—”

Fact number three about life, by the way? Anytime someone says something will be fine, it Will Not.

Overhead, the ceiling creaks a dangerous threat and a smattering of dust drifts down. “Well, shit,” Tony says, mostly to himself, but also to whatever god might be poking around. When he got thrown into the building, clearly he took some of the support structure with it. “Um, Widow? I lied.”

Pushing aside his nausea, Tony kicks his boots against the ground blast off and out of here. Only… he doesn’t.

“Sir, the power lines to the boots have been compromised—lift off is unachievable.”

“Jarvis, why is it you always have to tell me the bad news? Why not good news for once?”

“April the giraffe has finally given birth.”

More cracks begin to form in the ceiling, snaking across the plaster. An ominous rumbling follows. “This is life or death, and you’re sassing me. Jarvis, I ask you, what the fuck?”

“Help is coming.”

“What?” Tony stares at the helmet, fingers digging into the metal. “One of the Avengers—”

Static pick up, then Jarvis’ voice, muffled and distorted like an old record being slowed down: “N _ **o**_. He **lp** is **c** om _in_ g. H **el** p i **-i-s** s- _ss_ —”

Then something massive and black flies in from the hole Tony left and that’s the _second time_  in a _week_  Tony’s almost shit himself and he _does not appreciate—_

The shadowed thing lands, then straightens up tall—it’s a man, covered shoulder to foot in a black, shifting cloak made of—feathers? On his head is a crown of golden horns, and well, apparently Tony’s brain must’ve gone into oxygen deprivation a few minutes ago because this is a hell of an hallucination.

“Come,” the man says. “Loki will take you from here.” He extends a hand—more black, from the gloves to the leather armor. This man is black, black, black, except for the green in his eyes and the glinting helmet.

Flabbergasted and beyond out of his depth, Tony takes the man’s outstretched hand. All at once, his headache disappears and so does the ground for that matter as everything under him collapses and the walls cave in. The man leaps backwards and—

“Tony!”

Given that Tony’s first instinct upon being startled awake is to throw his arms up and slur, “Don’t kiss me!” he probably needs new friends. Then he blinks, and takes in the fact that he’s in a hospital, laying on a bed. Above him, Natasha looms like some sort of angel—not the nice, friendly kind with harps, mind, but the avenging kind with wings everywhere and an inclination for smiting.

She smacks his arms away impatiently. “Let me see your eyes.” She grabs him by the chin, grip firm, and holds his head steady. “Your pupils seem to be dilating correctly. Good. You aren’t going to get brain damage on my watch.”

“Go you.” Tony weakly fistpumps.

Steve pops into his field of vision next. “Jesus, Tony. You really waited until the last minute to get out of there.”

“You know me, I gotta make a dramatic exit.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Clint says from somewhere to the right. “You make a dramatic everything.”

Tony snorts. “Was that even proper grammar?” He turns his head, groaning as his neck pops. There’s a huge window, appropriately adorned in the standard pattern of chevron that seems to be in every hospital.

Outside, though, balanced on the small concrete ledge, is a raven.

It taps the glass twice with its beak, then tilts its head to stare at him with a beady green eye before it flies off.

“Hey Natasha?” Tony asks faintly. “Are we sure about that brain damage thing?”

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Check me out on tumblr! skochius.tumblr.com, where I cry a lot about Tony Stark.


End file.
